Achilles and Patroclus
by nat13cat
Summary: Anakin is lonely an stressed, and decides to do something about it. SLASH, SELF-PLEAUSRE, REAL M people. Happy birthday Cnwriter! ;  Oh, if you've read crit on the iliad and you know what the title means, Anakin is Achilles and Obi-wan is Patroclus.


**Wrote this for Cnwriters birthday! Pretty slashy, self-pleasure, heavy M here, don't like it don't read it! Flamers are welcome if you feel the need, I like to have something to laugh at. **

Anakin lay on his bunk, staring at the ceiling. The battle had been harsh, so harsh he had nearly lost the rest of his arm, and he had been in surgery all afternoon. Of course, because it was the end of the battle, let's just say sedatives and narcotics had been lacking. Even for the Jedi. Obi-wan had to hold his hand the whole time, trying to keep him under with the force as they stitched his arm back together so the force even had a chance of fixing it. His hand was still shaking from the ghost of the pain. His metal one lay cold and calm. He stretched it out before his face, flexing it. When he saw it, it still did not register as his own in his mind. He hated that hand, a reminder of his failure. A reminder of when he lost.

Force he was tired. His head slammed back into the pillows, and his head took more of a beating than the fabric. These things were so damn hard. Finally, after tossing and turning for what seemed like an hour he found himself sitting up with his hair grabbed in an angry hand, staring at the clock. The numbers had only grown by 20.

"Damn it!" he screamed, and it seemed to make himself feel a little better. He went on in a list of horrendous profanities from every language he could recall. By then end of it Padme would have probably fainted and Obi-wan might have cut his head off just to get him to shut up. The thought of that made him smile a little bit as the adrenalin wore off.

Well, then he was hit by an image of Padme stark naked and looking at him in that way she did. She sauntered up to him and trailed her fingers through his hair and down his jaw, her nail flicking his chin as she pulled away. Anakin leaned into the touch, but too soon the vision was gone and he was alone in his room, irrevocably turned on.

Obi-wan's room was right next to his. That just made it all the more exciting as he grabbed his lightsaber and threw it on the bed. He grabbed the bottle of vodka he'd hidden from Obi-wan and drank directly from the bottle, numbing the bruises speckled like stars over his skin. He caught his face in the floor length mirror and stopped glaring at the two bright blue eyes that shimmered there. _Pathetic_, they said. _Utterly pathetic_. Maybe he was, but at this point Padme was not here, and his hand was going to be.

He tore his shirt easily from his shoulders and then his trousers went. He reached for his undershorts, before he realized why he was doing this in the first place. So instead of simply tearing the fabric from his hips he let his flesh hand trail a single finger up the inside of his thigh. A shiver racked his body as he touched himself through the fabric. Grabbing his light saber he snapped his teeth around it to muffle his moans.

His metal hand trailed along his chest, flicking his pert nipple, before deciding that was two weak and pinching it sharply. This wasn't Padme; he was going as rough as he wanted. That is about when he lost his briefs. Not for the first time he cursed his lack of a second flesh hand, but he kept at it anyway, running his metal fingers across the ridges of his abdominals and sweeping down over his hips. His flesh hand caressed his man hood, excruciatingly slow. When he first rolled his head between his fingers he arched his back towards the top of his bunk, groaning into his lightsaber meant to keep him from doing just that. He increased the pace of his hand, up down, up down, up down. When he was close, the heat pooling in his stomach he stopped completely and grabbed the vodka bottle that rested beside the bed and downed more of it. He would never finish from the shame unless he was smashed enough not to care. Some might have missed his lips and trailed down his neck because it was now running over his collarbone. He touched his cock again, his metal hand grabbing his hot flesh. It was such a shock he jerked upwards and whimpered. The vodka bottle smashed on the floor and its liquid sprayed in a glittery arc over the metal. He had completed his goal, he was too drunk to care. The hand did not stop its rapid motion.

Right about then was when Obi-wan burst into the room, hearing the crash. He stopped dead, mouth falling opening just a little. Anakin's eyes turned and saw him, and Obi-wan caught the haze that covered them right away, making sense of the scene before him instantly. Anakin rolled his wrist and arched upwards again, irises rolling up in his head. Obi-wan couldn't take it anymore.

"Anakin!" he snapped stepping carefully over the broken pieces of the bottle. "What do you think you are doing?" he tugged the lightsaber from between his former Padawan's teeth. Anakin licked his lips and tugged the sheet over himself.

"Master," he started but didn't really get a chance to finish. Obi-wan was talking again.

"What if Ahsoka came in here instead of me? What then?" he through his hands up in exasperation.

"I'm so drunk master; I don't even know what the hell is going on," His arm hung limply from the bunk, revealing the ripcord muscle that stretched there. Two sapphire eyes gazed blankly at him, plush mouth parted in a manner that drained all the intelligence from his gaze. Collar bones snapped together like a re-curve bow, or maybe a red glossed lip. Then of course there were the scars, constant reminders of all the times he had failed, all the times his Padawan had gotten hurt, which was too much for either of their health. Plates of muscle undulated as he sat up again and reached for his underwear. For some reason Obi-wan believed him.

"You need to be more careful Anakin," he sat beside him on the bed, placing a hand on his shoulder. Anakin's vacant gaze turned to him, and suddenly it focused. Obi-wan opened his mouth to ask what had changed when a rough hand grabbed his hair and tugged their faces together. It wasn't gentle or romantic, but just another way to spar. And for a few moments, due to shock, Anakin was winning. Sharp teeth bit his lower lip as his head was forcibly turned and a tongue shoved up against his own. But we couldn't have that, now could we?

Ob-wan quickly took control, shoving his Padawan back onto the bed, slowly licking Anakin's teeth. When Anakin arched into him and groaned, wrapping his arms around Obi-wan's back, finally the elder came to his senses. He jumped away, eyes wide in horror at what he had just done. Anakin was inebriated, but he had no excuse.

"By force," he uttered, then fled into the safety of his own quarters, when he might take a lesson from Anakin.


End file.
